Quote of the week


...It was a perfect white night, as they call it... The mosses curled deep and warm over his feet, the young grass had no cutting edge, and all the voices of the Jungle boomed like one deep harp-string touched by the moon - the Moon of New Talk, who splashed her light full on rock and pool, slipped it between trunk and creeper, and sifted it through a million leaves... This is from "The Spring Running" in The Second Jungle Book.

The Spring has come in a rush. Mowgli, now a young man grown to his full strength, feels restless and strange, and he decides to make a 'spring running' away to the marshes of the North